


Ready

by sylvain



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Bay Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, First Time, Grinding, M/M, Reader-Insert, Smut, male reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:28:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22315588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylvain/pseuds/sylvain
Summary: Donatello's first time.  Of course he treats sex like a new world to be discovered.(maybe will turn into a series. probably a one-shot. heh.)
Relationships: Donatello (TMNT)/Male Reader, Donatello (TMNT)/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 83





	Ready

**Author's Note:**

> (Written in a rush. It's not my usual. I hope you like it.)

When Donnie says he's "ready," you have no idea what he's talking about. You look up from your phone and jump out of the gaming rocker you've been lounging in for the better part of an hour. You think you've forgotten something important. An anniversary. Or a date. Donnie’s great about remembering those things, even with his mind racing, sharing space with a million thoughts at once, there is always room for you. You are always a priority. 

You do the same for him. You try. With the stresses of your work and family and the new threats popping up all over New York, Donnie never blames you for letting things slip your memory. But you've never forgotten plans with him before.

Yet, he's standing at his bedroom door and telling you again as if you didn't hear him the first time. Except now his voice is low. The word is heavy on his tongue and brimming with expectation. 

"K. Gimme a minute," you say, cause Donnie is telling you he's  _ ready  _ but you're still dressed for bed at noon on a Sunday. 

You pull off your t-shirt, planning a few quick swipes of deodorant, a spritz of cologne, and a fresh shirt from the closet when you hear the *snick*-*thunk* of the deadbolt lock into place.

"Wha- I thought you said-" your eyes are wide in question when you look up, but your curiosity truly piques when you see your boyfriend crossing the room. He approaches you with smooth strides, his head cocked to one side. With one arm hugging himself across his chest, he lets his other hand move from rubbing his chin to scratching the back of his head like he’s uncovered a mystery that needs solving. Like he’s found a new world that needs to be explored.

He's looking at you, taking it all in like he hasn't seen you without a shirt before. He's studying you as you stand there like a chump with your t-shirt balled in one fist and Speed Stick in the other. 

"Babe," you start, but under his scrutiny, your mouth has gone dry. You wet your lips and try again. "What're you-" Then it clicks, and you know.  _ He’s ready.  _ It’d been a topic of conversation tackled nearly a dozen times throughout the short months you’ve been dating. And, now, he’s ready. 

Your feel your heartbeat in your throat and in your stomach as he takes another step toward you. It’s some kind of miracle that you can even breathe.

Finally, he's standing right in front of you. And it’s somehow worse, having your boyfriend less than an arm’s length away. Because he’s close enough to touch you, yet he doesn't. His hands reach out, as if to cup your face like he's done so many times before, but instead of coming to rest along your jaw, they hover. You can feel how close they are by the tingle of your skin, the tickle of the small hairs on your neck beneath his palms. 

He glides his hands down your throat, over your shoulders, along your arms. Only when he reaches your wrists does he let his skin touch yours. And even then it's just a graze of his fingertips over the insides of your wrists.

Your sharp intake of breath evokes from your boyfriend a small sound of satisfaction in response. The corner of his mouth quirks. Not quite a smile. More analytical curiosity than amusement.

He repeats his touch. This time dragging his fingers down the insides of your palms. Your own fingers curl at the sensation, but his touch is too fleeting to be caught by you.

Your reaction warrants a hum this time. And it draws his face close to yours. But you can tell by the furrow of his brow ridge that he has no intention of kissing you just yet. Instead, he goes for your neck. Nudging the underside of your jaw with his beak, flicking his tongue along the hollow of your throat… pausing to breathe warmly over the wet trail he's left behind.

He takes his time. Mouths at you, tasting your skin. He nibbles at the muscles of your shoulder and you think he’d bite down if he thought you liked it. But for the time being, he nips and licks and kisses. Each placement of his mouth feels deliberate. The time spent providing each sensation feels planned.

Of course he treats sex like an experiment, your physical reactions like data. He's taking notes. He's probably read up on human anatomy and erogenous zones. But yours aren’t the only breaths coming in gasps. Since his hands came to rest on your sides, he can’t seem to get enough of the feel of you against his skin. His hands move over the planes and angles of your body like every inch of you is a new discovery. They linger, fingers splayed over your stomach, as he changes his stance.

Your boyfriend steps up behind you and there's no mistaking the bulge you feel against the curve of your lower back. With one palm flat over the center of your chest, Donnie holds you flush against his front. His other hand slides down your stomach and under the waistband of your pants. It presses firm and slow on your pelvis, securing you in place as he moves against you from behind. You know he must be standing with his legs wide, rolling his hips obscenely, in order to line up his cock against you like this. The image makes you shudder and sit back into the bump and grind.

"How do you want me?" Donnie asks, panting against your shoulder between nips and licks and kisses. You realize he’s been aroused by his little experiment for longer than you gave him credit. His voice sounds like it’s been dragged across gravel. "Hmm?" He inquires as he rocks against you. His kisses move up the side of your neck on their way to your ear. Once there, Donnie traces the curve of your ear with his tongue. He takes your earlobe between his teeth, sucking on your gauge and tugging gently as you gasp. "C'mon, babe, how do you want me?" And now, what once sounded like confidence is drenched in desperation.

You roll your hips back against his, a slow undulation. "Just like this," you tell him. When you first say it, you think it's a tease, but then your boyfriend's grip on your pelvis tightens and he moans like he's been caught off guard, and now it’s more than that. It’s a request, a challenge. "I want you like this. Come for me just like this."

Donnie's breath hitches, and his movements speed up. His hand slides up your chest to your throat, to your chin. He turns your face and captures your mouth in kiss that’s deep and desperate. 

You swallow his moans and reach up to hold his head in place as his hips stutter and his body shudders and he lets out a muffled cry against your lips.

Donnie's kisses turn lazy until, gasping, he buries his face into your shoulder. He takes a moment. One arm snug around your waist, the other hanging limp at his side, as he waits for his brain to reboot. "Now what?"

"Oh, babe," you say sweetly, turning in his embrace. You take his face in your hands to place a gentle kiss on his nose. In his eyes, you see the light of his endless curiosity sparking to life again. Then, with your hands on his chest and a feigned grin of innocence tugging at your lips, you back him toward the bed. "Now, it's my turn."


End file.
